More Than You're Worth
by Casting Moonlight
Summary: Prompt Word; Trouble. Onslaught ponders about his little lover and just what it could cost him. Drabble.


**Title:** More Than You're Worth  
><strong>PairingCharacters: **Onslaught/Groove  
><strong>Verse: <strong>G1  
><strong>Words: <strong>836  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>None  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Prompt Word; Trouble. Onslaught ponders about his little lover and just what it could cost him. Drabble.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Do not own Transformers  
><strong>Notes: <strong>None

Enjoy!

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><p>If he really took an astro-second to think about it, the Autobot was more trouble than he was worth.<p>

Watching the Protectobot from where Onslaught was reclined on the hard-packed desert sand, shaded by a collection of boulders and leaning against the cool surface of the rock, the Combaticon leader flicked a slithering native reptile that had slithered over his fingers off to the side a few yards in absent , if Onslaught truly considered this strange situation, the youngling was more trouble than he was worth.

That was all Groove was honestly, just a pre-programmed processor that easily held only youngling level emotion subroutines in a nearly fully upgraded mech's frame. Still, he was a mech and downloaded with the information any average mature mech should know in general. It left room for boundless knowledge and learning to take place.

That fact about Groove, and plainly all of his gestalt, was painfully obvious. Groove particularly, along with that red and white medic Vortex enjoyed messing with so much, was evident in his almost insatiable curiosity and uncomfortable youngling-like naïve-ness when it came to social type events and conversations. Not that the Decepticons were a great example of social ethics but even Onslaught had a line. The curiosity and naïve-ness had made him eager to please and kept him from more mature interactions.

Those were the problems, Groove was such an easy target.

He was not a fighter, in fact in his own words he was a '_permanent pacifist_' but would at least pick up a gun to defend himself or others. Pacifist. The word was foreign to him before Groove had appeared. That alone translated to 'fresh metal' in the processors of a Decepticon. He could so easily be beaten in a battle and captured, there to be interrogated by Megatron, Vortex, or Soundwave. Or Megatron could order something worse.

Pit, even the youngling's curiosity was a safety hazard. He would probably scale down the inside of that blasted volcano on top of their base just to figure out how hot it is!

Not to mention, his brothers had taken certain interests in their main enemy on the battle field. The opposition created just for them, because of them. It was something that had intrigued many of his brothers. It meant that his dangerous brothers might be nearby and all Groove had to do was piss one of them off and he could be a gray shell.

Onslaught should just kill him now. He should deactivate him before Megatron discovered these rendezvous and punished him for them in the face of the fact he did so willingly.

It would be simple to do; killing Groove. All he had to do was stand up, walk over to where Groove was bending over a patch of vibrantly green organic slag, pull out a simple energy pistol, put it to his helm, and then fire. Groove's deactivation would rid him of the burden of being discovered, as well as drag the rest of the Protectobot gestalt down. It would be so simple-

"Onslaught!" Groove suddenly called out.

Onslaught looked up, broken from his morbid musings and spotted Groove immediately. The Autobot was jogging toward him covered in desert dust helm to pede, his iceberg colored optics glimmering eagerly, and wearing the brightest smile etched in his face. In his arms was a slightly banged up, obviously customized, energy assault rifle.

"I found it!" Groove said breathlessly as he stopped in front of him, cooling fans whirring softly. Fearlessly, Groove held out the rifle for him, his mortal enemy, to take. "When Sideswipe shot it out of your hands a few days ago, it landed in a patch of baby cacti! Got wedged in pretty deep but I managed to wriggle it out." He said proudly.

Onslaught had been in the process of accepting the rifle from Groove when he heard just where it had been and how Groove had found it. Looking closely at the hands that had plucked his rifle out of the green organic junk, he saw them littered with microscopic scratches of paint scrapped off and lines of visible metal all over. Shaking his head, he subspaced his rifle and grabbed one of Groove's wrists, twisting him down until the Autobot landed in his lap. Ignoring the startled yelp from Groove, Onslaught captured both hands in his and began to lightly massage the probably tender sensors.

"Silly thing." He muttered, feeling Groove beginning to relax against his chassis. Landing a slight kiss on his helm, Onslaught continued quietly, "Thanks."

If he really thought about, Groove was too much trouble than he was worth.

Groove looked up at him with a smile, beaming, "Your welcome."

Luckily, Onslaught didn't have time to think of such _troublesome_ things.

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